Hitherto, dinner in Bandundu has been a somewhat sluggish and unpredictable event. Tonight we have a lot of work, so suggest that since the food at both places we have eaten has been cooked specially for us, why doesn’t the driver order for us, collect the food and bring it to us? He has joined us for dinner the previous three nights, but tonight announces he doesn’t want to.
I give him some money, much more than I think he will need, but just in case things turn out to be more expensive.
It takes a long time, and we turn our mind to opening a bottle of wine I bought earlier in the day. We haven’t got a corkscrew, but the driver has a Chinese version of a Swiss Army knife, and he has lent it to us. Being a barman manqué, I set too. The cork is tight. Very tight. Some sort of tropical gluing seems to have set in. I pull harder and woops: the corkscrew breaks off near the base.
We go to the management, asking them for some pliers, as the stub of the corkscrew is still projecting and we should be able to pull it out. Nothing doing. The manager, who is young and burly, offers to try. Nothing doing. He finds a corkscrew. It is one of the ones with two arms that pull up the cork when you push them down. Unfortunately the mechanism is broken, but this gives up much more to grip with the pliers. Nothing doing. Eventually he takes over, and hacks the cork out bit by bit with a fork which he has bent so that only one spline sticks out. And voilà, a full half hour later, he is nearly through and we can pull out the cork with the pliers and bits of corkscrew.
We have put chairs on the grass in front of our rooms, and sit down gratefully. The ice-cold wine goes down very well. Then the power goes off, leaving us in total darkness, so clearly the gods do not approve of any work being done.
The food arrives – a procession consisting of the driver and two people from the office, carrying massive covered stainless steel trays used in buffet meals to keep food warm. By torchlight we take a peek inside: wow there’s enough for five. Indeed there are five plates. Clearly the food supplied was enlarged to meet the budget rather than the other way around.
Light or no light, tables are hurriedly supplied by the hotel management from various rooms, and our buffet is set up, as in a grand hotel. Finest white plates, knives and forks and napkins, and a choice of six different dishes in huge quantities. Out of nowhere our three colleagues, who had declined to participate earlier, and who were not staying at the hotel, appear and tucked in.
“Bon appétit”, we wish each other in the dark.
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